Marie turned her face into Logan’s shoulder, and tried not to think about their audience. It wasn’t as hard as it should have been: Wolverine-in-her-head had reinforced her own resentful temper, releasing the brazen streak she usually worked to hide. Rubbing her nose into his now t-shirt covered chest, she took in a deep draught of Logan-scent and allowed her hands to wander. Right now, she felt too cherished to move, and too horny to care about who saw what.
Touching Logan was always … interesting, she reflected. Whereas Logan’s mental presence felt like a pair of warm arms wrapped around her, reassuring and constant and loving, the Wolverine manifested differently. HIS energy made her twitchy and aggressive, and his lust snapped at her nerve endings, making it hard to concentrate. It was much easier to just … feel. Feel the warmth of him surrounding her, the corded strength of his thighs beneath her ass, the slight jump of his cock every time she shifted. As her fingers slid slowly from his cloth-covered pectoral muscles to encounter the bulge of a bicep, Marie groaned at the blaze of bare skin under her fingers, so hot her hand might have been naked.
His breath changed tempo as her nails bit into the muscle, then traced the vein traversing the glorious landscape of his arm. Marie bit her lip as it throbbed under her fingers, raising her head slowly to stare directly into his eyes. They were half-closed, and glowing like coals. The Wolverine was very, very close to the surface, in both of them, Marie acknowledged. Just the tiniest nudge, she thought, her hand stilling for the moment, just the tiniest shift towards temptation, and their bargain would be broken. She had to decide, before Wolverine took that decision out of both of their hands. She had to decide whether she could do that to Logan.
Her head was still bowed in thought when his hand snuck between her legs and began to stroke along the seam of her pants. And circle. And press. Marie moaned – loudly – and tried to resist the urge to writhe under his fingers. She doubted anyone could see what was going on, but it didn’t change the fact that Logan had his hand between her legs in a public place, and was about five seconds from getting her off. And four of her classmates - BOYFRIEND shrieked her brain, BOYFRIEND – were sitting less than six metres away. She swallowed the groan that threatened to escape and pushed against his enclosing arm. He growled, but let her rise to her feet, swaying slightly before she dropped into the other chair.
“For Christ’s sake, Logan!” She glanced around but was reassured - no one wanted to be caught eavesdropping on the murderous cage fighter. “Two o’clock this afternoon, you told me we couldn’t do this. Now” – his growl interrupted her, and she realised subtlety was useless – “now, sugar, it hasn’t been 24 hours and you’re trying figure out how many times you can fuck me before we get home!”
His smirk was dangerous. “Not just how many times, darlin’. How many different ways do you think you can bend?”
Bend? Why … oh. Marie’s eyes widened in understanding and she felt a flush rising from somewhere deep within. Him-in-her-head chose that moment to flood her with salacious memories, and she gaped. “Uh. Oh .. mmm.” She tried to force her stammer to sound less intrigued, but failed. “Wolverine!”
He was grinning hugely at her discomfort, the predatory gleam turned up a notch and genuine amusement making his usual smoulder near irresistible. Once again, Marie seesawed on the edge of surrender. It was his golden eyes, however, that forced her libido into retreat – right now, Logan WAS the Wolverine, his own personality completely submerged in the testosterone rush of the fights. A magnificent animal intent on moving to stage two of the fight-fuck equation.
Even as her legs turned to jelly, Marie took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve and moved even further away, to the other side of the table. She growled at her own reluctance – damn hormones! Bad libido! – but managed to collect some composure. She had a deal with Logan, and right now, he wasn’t in the room.
“Logan.” Her serious tone communicated the danger they were in, and she saw resentment flash across his face as he began the struggle to regain control. Ornery man, coming right up, she told herself sourly. Miss Marie of the hormone police calling, ‘cause ya wouldn’t wanna hafta control those urges all by yourself, would ya sugar?
He just growled at her, but didn’t attempt to haul her back, instead grabbing their coats and rising to his feet. “You comin’?” He didn’t wait for an answer, stalking towards Mo to collect his winnings and then – without even checking to see if she was still behind him – pushing his way through the crowd to the door.
Marie smiled wanly as she passed Bobby’s table, wincing at Colossus’ battered visage and ignoring the glares of outrage from Kitty and Jubilee. Bobby, she saw, had failed to notice her presence, so intent was he in trying to coax vodka from bottle to shot glass. More ended up on the table than anywhere else, and Marie resisted the urge to tell him he’d obviously had enough. She doubted it would go down well.
Inclining her brows in a mute farewell, Marie turned her back on her friends and followed Logan to the door. He was out of sight even before she reached the exit, and two huge bikers coming in pushed her hard against the wall. Irritation flashed through her, annoyance threaded with ugly resentment.“Where’s Mr Overprotective Bad-ass when I need him, huh,” she asked the wall. “Girl says no just once and he takes off. Jesus, Logan. The things I do for you.” She was still fuming when she barrelled through the outer doors into the cold.
“Settle down, kid. I can just about see steam coming off ya.” Logan was leaning on the wall several metres away. His eyes were still more golden than green, but the Wolverine no longer seemed set to pounce. “Sorry ‘bout that, in there. Things got a bit … crazy.”
“Yeah, crazy like a horny Wolverine,” she snapped back, still pissed at his cavalier treatment. “It’s not like I asked for this deal, you know. It was all you. Or him.” Marie was unsure of whether the Wolverine recognised the differentiation between his human and animal psyches. And she wasn’t exactly sure just who was in charge now, either.
He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot and busied his hands with preparing a cigar. “I know, Marie. I know. I should have never bought you to the fights. It’s kinda … well, it’s his territory. Here, you’re his too, and he’s not real keen on waitin’,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on the cigar.
Marie crumpled at the guilt in his voice, and went to hug him. “I’m just glad you’re back, sugar. It was gettin’ a little intense and I knew we hadta stop,” she admitted. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to say no.”
Logan’s head snapped up. “Marie – you know we’d never force ya, don’t you? I’d never do that to ya, and he wouldn’t either. He might push a bit, but - he wants ya willing, kid.” He frowned at the last statement, realising it didn’t sit well with the attempt to derail their fast-developing sexual relationship.
Marie laughed. “Hell, sugar – I know THAT. But the problem is I can be a bit too willing, and I’m trying to honour our agreement. But Wolverine made it awful … hard,” she purred, relieved to be able to flirt again now that Logan was back to squelch his own impulses.
Her innuendo pulled a smile from him, and the familiar sparkle returned to his eyes. “Hard, huh? You have no idea, baby. One of these days, I might just have to show ya.” With that, he swung onto the bike, handing her the helmet he insisted she wear to ride with him. Marie was still grinning when he gunned the Harley out onto the highway, and she made more than one onlooker smile when she threw both arms above her head in an exuberant salute to the moment, the night, and what felt like the first day of the rest of her life.
XXXXXXXXXX
Her joyous mood lasted throughout the trip back to Chelsea and even made it up the back steps and into the house. It then crashed spectacularly when Logan remembered to mention his covert discussion with Colussus. In between blows, it seemed they had found the time to agree to meet. Tonight. At 4am. Marie quailed at the thought.
“Gee, great. At least I’ve got a whole ..” she glanced at her watch “fifty-two minutes to figure out what the FUCK I’m going to say,” Marie snarled, nearly shouting the last words at him. Or, shouting as loud as you could when you were trying not to a wake a houseful of sleeping mutants.
“What’s to figure out? We can tell’em the truth, or we can lie, Marie. First is easier to remember and the second is probably easier to live with. It’s up to you.” Logan, it was clear, didn’t care one way or another. He stomped his way through the house and headed into his closet of a room. Marie followed him, fuming.
“I ain’t even sure what the truth is,” she fired at him, not sure whether she actually believed that, or whether she was just trying to hurt him. “I mean, apparently we’re not doing stuff, because I’m too young. But your hands were pretty damn happy to ignore that an hour ago, Mister. Or maybe we’re just friends … like always, poor little Marie trailing after her hero. She has such a crush, but he’s SOOOO nice to her, he just pats her on the head and even gives her a big hug occasionally …” she couldn’t maintain the level of venom, because it was just too sad. Their situation sucked.
“Marie.” He had collapsed on his bed as she stood by the door, an ironic reversal of their positions earlier in the day. He looked tired – the adrenaline rush of the fights, coupled with the need to heal afterwards – and her heart panged for him in that moment. Annoying, gorgeous, tired man.
“The truth is what we want it to be. Like we said, at the bar. Just because we’re not fucking doesn’t mean you’re not mine, and if that’s how you wanna play it, then that’s what we’ll do. But if you wanna pretend it’s all a mistake, I can live with that too.” His shrug suggested it was no biggie, but Marie could read the tightness on his face. Her answer was important to him.
“So – us together. But not … together?” She liked the first part of the idea, and could live with the second if she had to. But why … “Why not, the second part? If everyone thinks we already are?”
“You know why, Marie. It’s not about what people think, it’s about you and me. And who we are, and how much I … need to protect you. You’re still very young and once we do this, everything changes.” He laughed, a dry, ugly rasp full of self-hate. “It already kills me to see you look at Bobby or the other kids … you think I’m possessive or over-protective now, you just wait, kid. You have absolutely no idea.”
His eyes were flashing golden again as they raked over her, and she wondered if he was imagining them together, naked, fucking. She certainly was, though she suspected her vision of candles and soft music bore little relation to whatever Logan was thinking. Marie drew in a ragged breath and returned her attention to the man on the bed. He wasn’t finished, though.
“And while we’re on it, the problem isn’t just me being older. It’s,” Logan stopped, his careful approach a bald contrast with the lascivious Wolverine. “It’s me, really. What I am. How I … do things.”
“Things? Like, sex things?”
“Yeah,” he answered, reluctance written in every line of his body. “I mean, you know how I get in the fights? Kinda insane, so it’s all the Wolverine?” He took a deep breath and seemed to brace for her reaction. “Well, sex can be like that too. Sometimes I lose control, get a little rough. Or a lot rough. It’s not always pretty.” He frowned down at his boots, obviously pissed at having to make the admission. Obviously concerned about her reaction.
Marie wanted to set his mind at ease, but her indignation wouldn’t let her.
“You think I just want hearts and flowers? Candles and satin sheets?” Marie conveniently ignored her longings of just moments ago. “Jesus, Logan! Are you forgetting I’ve got you in my head? I’ve seen what you like – Christ on the cross, I’ve seen what the Wolverine likes, and I’m still here!” She stared at him as he lounged on the bed, and wondered if she had the guts to cross the room. “I’m still here,” she whispered. “But I want to be over there. With you.”
He shook his head, refusing to allow her to bridge the gap between them. Suddenly, she wasn’t interested in his permission. Two strides, and she was sitting on his legs, her knees bracketing his thighs, and his bony under her ass.
As he moved to push her away, she grabbed a leather-encased hand in each of her silk-clad ones, and stared him into stillness.
“Logan. Give me this. I stopped tonight because I wanted YOU to be first. Not the Wolverine. But I understand about you and him. And sex. I’m not saying I’m not scared, but,” she hesitated, peeking up at him and biting her lip in a way she KNEW affected him, “you’ll help me get over it. And the sooner we start? The sooner I’ll be ready for the Wolverine. ‘Cause he’s mine too.” The bold words needed a coda, she realised. Her greedy eyes swept from his face to the cords of his neck and the jut of his collar bones before moving to the magnificent chest. The thin wifebeater showed her the pinpoints of hard male nipples through the cotton and she suddenly needed to find out for herself whether they really were as sensitive as his memories suggested. One gloved fingertip wandered briefly over them, before she dipped her head to bite him – hard.
“Holy Jesus, Marie. Fuck.” Logan’s head was back, his eyes closed, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t in THAT much pain. He held the tortured position for long minutes – please don’t think, she prayed; don’t think – before his fingers went straight to the zip on her leathers. As he shucked her of the jacket, Marie tried not to crow in victory – Mama always said true lady wins or loses with grace. Wonder what else Mama would have said about this, she pondered as she bent her head again to leave a trail of wet cotton from one nipple to the other.
Logan groaned in response, and tugged her silky t-shirt up and over her face, his lips slanting over hers even before she registered the tantalising barrier between them. First heat, and then wetness filtered through the silk knit; then the taste of him came thundering through, drowning her in cigars and whiskey and peat and water and chocolate and icecream and all things that were ever good.
The swirl of pleasure only intensified as his gloved hands relinquished the edge of her t-shirt to sweep down her back, mapping every dip and curve, before grasping her ass as she sat astride him. She hadn’t dared to sit directly in his lap – he remedied that with the barest flex of his biceps, banging their hipbones together in his haste. Marie struggled not to hyperventilate as she felt his cock nudge her right THERE – God, so good – and the buck of her hips wasn’t even conscious.
“God, Logan. Logan, please …” her litany collapsed into wordlessness as his hands swept forwards to swallow her breasts, gloved fingers kissing the individual bumps on her areolas before skimming lightly over the nipple in an eternal tease. The delicate dance provoked a fevered moan from Marie as her undulations became increasingly frantic. “Fuck, Logan. Harder,” she growled at him, and his sharp pinch sent her half way to heaven. When he grabbed her hips and ground her into his denim-encased cock, she was flung the rest of the way … and then some, as the spasms that gripped her body eradicated her ability to see, or think. Eyes shut, face still shrouded in red silk, she curled against his chest to ride out the moment.
When she came to, Logan lifted her chin to look straight into her eyes. “You okay, kid?”
Marie choked on her laugh. “OK? Am I OK? Logan, you gotta know I’m pretty fucking fabulous right about now. Just don’t expect me to walk anywhere, is all,” she said, refusing to be embarrassed. “And did you really just call me kid?”
His bark of laughter was both amused and mocking. “Yeah, well, its obviously worked so well for me before. Real good at keeping my hands off you, I am.” She listened for the usual – self-disgust, anger, guilt – but for once, it wasn’t there. Had he accepted her argument? Or was this simply a moment of post-orgasmic contentment?
Marie’s train of thought screeched to a halt. For her, perhaps. He was still hard as a rock beneath her, and here she was expecting him to be all satisfied and happy. Was she the most stupid girl in creation? Or just the most selfish?
“Uh, you didn’t, um,” her voice trailed into nothing as a scarlet blush worked its way up to her hairline.
Now Logan really was amused. He rumbled, deep in his chest, and forced her to look at him. “Marie, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to say it. Come. C-O-M-E. Come like a thousand freight trains.” She hid her eyes against his chest as she flushed even redder and his chuckle became a belly laugh. Unable to be more embarrassed than she already was, she punched him and pouted.
“Come, then. But there were absolutely no trains involved at all,” she sniffed. A smile crept over her face. “More like … a wave. Or stars. And there were colours.” She frowned at him, and moved her hand tentatively towards his belt buckle. “You should get the colours as well, Logan.”
He grabbed her hand and his lips touched each gloved finger in turn before he rose, drawing them both to stand. “Not just yet, baby. No time.” He tapped her leather clad ass and pointed her towards the bathroom. “You go wash up a bit, and then we’ve got to talk to the others, remember?”
“Why can’t I stay like this?” she pouted, aware of the stickiness in her leather pants, but kind of liking the slide and heat of it. Logan smiled, slowly and fully, with the Wolverine glinting from his eyes.
“Baby, you smell like that for much longer, and I can’t guarantee what I’ll say to those kids. I can’t even guarantee I won’t start howling at the fuckin’ moon with you smellin’ like that.”
Marie smiled and went to wash. But not too well. Good to keep Logan on his … toes, she thought.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Walking into the kitchen that night – morning, she reminded herself – was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Even with Logan’s protective warmth at her back, Marie struggled to keep her head high once she saw Jubilee, Kitty, Piotr and Bobby lined up like executioners on one side of the long table. The sudden rush of shame must have been revealed in her scent, as Logan chose that moment to whisper in her ear. “Mine. All mine.”
She felt the smile return to her face and straightened her spine. Being worthy of the Wolverine was no small matter.
Logan sank into the chair at the head of the table and without even saying a word, pulled her into his lap. This time, she wasn’t even embarrassed. She stopped herself from purring out of respect for Bobby, but nor did she hide the pleasure of being in his arms.
“So. You kids got a problem with this?” Logan made no bones about his meaning, running his hand along her hip and raising his eyebrows in enquiry. Kitty went as pink as the scarlet top she was wearing, while Jubilee was struck dumb, unable to do more splutter in outrage. Bobby could barely focus, let alone vocalise, which left Colossus to speak for him.
“It’s none of our business, but,” Piotr looked beseechingly at Marie, “you need to talk to him. He is not very happy,” the Russian said, his understatement almost funny under the circumstances.
“I know, Pete. I’ve been trying for a while, but he just doesn’t want to listen to me,” Marie confessed. “This, uh, this is kinda new,” she blushed, realising from the wooden faces that none of her friends believed her. “It is! We never …” Marie stopped as Logan’s hand clasped her gloved wrist.
“As you said, none of your business. Rogue is mine, and pretty much always was. If he thought otherwise,” he ended the thought with a negligent shrug that expressed just how stupid that assumption was.
“You’re not in school anymore, and things are different now. Accept it.” With that, Logan stood Marie on her feet, and rose to stand behind her. He didn’t even look at the four teenagers before steering Marie to his bedroom, and locking the door behind her.
Marie stood immobile just inside the locked door. “Uh. Logan. That’s not going stop them, uh, saying stuff.” She wondered if he realised that sheer intimidation wouldn’t quell the gossip, and that news of their liaison would filter its way back to Storm and the Professor within days.
“They’ll say stuff anyway. Better that we deal with it together than you have to put up with it alone,” he shrugged.
“True. So we’re going public, then. To everyone?” Marie wanted to be sure on this.
“Well, let’s just say we’re gonna have a sleep-in tomorrow. And then we’re gonna get up together. And you’ll smile all pretty and I’ll be slightly less of a mean SOB, and they’ll figure it out. No point making it too easy for ‘em.”
“Good plan, sugar. Tomorrow might even be fun,” Marie smiled. Truth was, she didn’t really care. Logan had a way of cutting through the unnecessary bullshit in life, and maybe she was learning to do the same.
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